Before burning, rangers scour
for strays, miss an old
deathwish bison, lenses
isinglass scrabble, heightened spoor
of the next world, lambent,
liminal in windlifted brush fire,
still as an uptown statue.
Zephyrs pare the swart umbra.
Infirm shag ecloses from fluming
helical caul, then retreats.
I take on white noise,
occlude as old world revenant,
rattling chains to
jounce the static of your gaze.
Primary succession. No goodbye.
And when black earth
seethes fade, rangers locate
flameskinned bone,
hear the gooey tar face
pop and spit, and that is that.
What do you think?